


barmecidal

by badbavarois



Series: waterloo [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 16:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbavarois/pseuds/badbavarois
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky didn't deserve to win.





	barmecidal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thing_with_feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thing_with_feathers/gifts).



> yurio spin-off of when i fall for that/let me down gently! you don't need to read the other i think??? but it would probably be better imo  
> betaed by rosywiki on tumblr!!!

He doesn’t deserve the medal.

 

He tells himself this as he holds it, staring at the Barcelona skyline, staring at anything other than his reflection. He grips it tight enough for the gold to cut into the flesh of his palm and fingers. 

 

(He doesn’t deserve it.)

 

He’s fifteen going on sixteen, fresh out of the gate and beating people nearly twice his age. It’s because of Victor, he says, because he knows he couldn’t have done it alone. Victor made everyone better, and he’s no different.

 

(He doesn’t deserve the medal.)

 

He closes his eyes as he brushes his teeth, counts to one hundred twenty, concentrates on mint and copper and not the gold in his hand. He doesn’t open his eyes until he leans down to spit out toothpaste and water and blood. He blinks at his reflection when he straightens his back, sees his wet mouth and toothpaste lips and dirty hair and - 

 

(He doesn’t deserve the medal.)

 

He throws it, hard, feels the ribbon slip between his fingers and hears it hit the mirror. Glass falls into the sink and smaller shards swirl down the drain with the toothpaste.

 

He freezes. Someone - Otabek Altin next door or JJ Leroy across the hall - must have heard, but ten minutes pass and no one knocks on the door. He shuts off the water but leaves the medal in the sink, soaked and dented. 

 

He doesn’t turn off the lights when he climbs into bed. He pulls the comforter over his head and counts to one hundred and twenty.

 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep.

 

…

 

He calls the front desk in the morning to tell them about the broken mirror, the phone pressed between his shoulder and jaw as he shoves the last of his shit in his suitcase.

 

He and Yakov have an early flight back to Saint Petersburg. Lilia isn’t coming back for a few more days - she has a few old students living in Barcelona and working for a professional trope that she hasn’t seen perform in years.

 

The flight back is long and unending and by the time Yuri gets off the plane, he’s ready to crash and burn.

 

He didn’t deserve to win and the sight of his fans waiting outside the terminal just rams the point home like rusty nails in his heart. They scream and cheer and throw shit at him and the second he and Yakov are in a taxi with tinted windows, he’s typing a lengthy text to JJ telling him just how he plans on exacting his revenge for leaking his flight details on a Yuri’s Angels’ message board.

 

Five minutes later, JJ texts back  _ lol.  _ Yuri leaves him on read and shoves his phone deep in the front pocket of his suitcase. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Yakov asks, not looking up from his own phone. They've been working together long enough that the coach knows when he needs to stay away and when he needs to listen to Yuri bitch about every person he’s ever been wronged by.

 

“Fucking JJ,” he says, staring out the window. Dirty snow is piled around buildings, melting into oily puddles on the road. “I hate him. He’s such a dick. I bet he’s not even circumcised - “

 

“What did he do?”

 

“Tell the fans when we were landing.”

 

Yakov’s eye twitches. “I’ll talk to his parents.”

 

“He’s a child.”

 

“Yuri,” Yakov chides. “He’s older than you by several years, and engaged.”

 

“He’s still a child.”

 

Yakov doesn’t even bother arguing.

 

…

 

At 2 AM, he deletes his Instagram.

 

At 2:05, he deletes his Twitter account.

 

At 2:10, Otabek calls him.

  
  


“Fuck do you want?” Yuri isn’t tired, but talking to people is too much effort and if Otabek is calling to say he’s proud of Yuri like every fucking other person, he’ll block Otabek without a second thought.

 

Instead, Otabek says the obvious. “You deleted all of your social media.”

 

It’s not a question and Yuri wasn’t expecting it and doesn’t know how to respond.

 

_ You deleted all your social media -  _ stupid and impulsive like everything else he does; people should come to expect it. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it.

 

“Is that the only reason you called?” he asks, but it comes out toneless. “I have early practice in the morning and it sounds like you already know the answer.”

 

“Why? You won the Grand Prix Final. You can take a break.”

 

“I won because I  _ don’t  _ take breaks.”

 

“That’s how you break yourself, Yuri. Look at - “ He doesn’t finish and the silence rings heavy in the air, but Yuri knows what Otabek was to say:  _ like Katsuki Yuuri. _

 

“I’m not like him. I’m not stupid and bitter and driven by the need to impress my not-boyfriend until I end up in the hospital.”

 

“I don’t think you’re all that different, you and Katsuki Yuuri.”

 

Yuri scowls. “Did you even listen to anything I just said?” he spits out. All the lights are off and his room is pitch black, but he still sees red.

 

“Did you? I swear to God, Yuri, sometimes I feel like you get so wrapped up in your own head that you forget to breathe.”

 

“I don’t have to listen to that from anyone, especially you. I don’t even know you.” They’ve met twice and Otabek may have saved him from the angels on that damn motorcycle of his like a white knight straight out of a fairy tale, but Yuri didn’t ask for that and he doesn’t own Otabek anything.

 

“I just want to - “

 

“I didn’t deserve to win, happy? It should have been you, or Chris, or JJ, or even Katsuki or Phichit Chulanont, but not me. I showed up out of nowhere and took it from all of you and  _ I didn’t deserve it.” _

 

A few seconds pass before Otabek says, “Do you want me to convince you otherwise?”

 

He sighs when Yuri doesn’t respond before saying, “Goodnight, Yuri. Try to get some sleep.”

 

He counts to one hundred twenty and doesn’t sleep.

 

…

 

He doesn’t go to practice.

 

He doesn’t even get out of bed.

 

…

 

He’s not Victor, doesn’t have the money to quit with no warning or the experience to coach, but he wishes he does, because Victor quit and everyone still loves him, but Yuri Plisetsky won and he hates himself.

 

The medal is still back in Barcelona but he feels it on his chest, suffocating him.

 

(He didn’t deserve to win.)

 

…

 

He calls Victor a few weeks after Katsuki gets out of the hospital, still yellow and green and purple and bandaged, but smiling in the picture Victor sent over snapchat. The caption reads  _ //streaks  _ and Yuri tries to not let it get to him.

 

“Yurio~!” Victor calls when he picks up the phone. He can hear the noises of the onsen in the background. It’s strange, the almost longing deep in his chest. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I won the GPF,” he says.

 

“I know. Did you call to remind me that you broke my free skate record?”

 

“No,” he says, can’t bring himself to chase it with an apology. “I just - I won, so why do I still feel so disappointed in myself?”

 

“That sucks.” Victor almost sounds sympathetic.

 

Yuri knows he’s pouting, but he’s pissed off and no one can see him. “I’m serious.”

 

“You thought everything would be perfect the second you won,” Victor says. “But it’s not, and now you’re wondering what you did wrong.”

 

“I didn’t deserve it,” he says. It hurts to say but he still forces the next words out - “Katsudon should have won.”

 

“Yuuri can’t skate anymore,” Victor’s voice breaks. “He can barely get around the onsen without me or Mari to help him.”

 

“I know what I fucking said,” Yuri spits out. “Tell me why I’m not satisfied.”

 

“That’s something you have to figure out for yourself.”

 

Yuri hangs up. He knew that answer was coming, but it still stings.

 

“I hate you.”

 

He doesn’t know who he’s talking to.

 

…

 

He skates for hours, fills every second of his free time doing ballet with Lilia once she’s back in the country. His feet bleed and he thinks of Katsudon and tells himself he won’t be the same. He tells Yakov he’s taking Mondays off just to drive the point home.

 

He lasts two weeks before he spends his Mondays running a 10k through and the city and hitting the gym afterwards until he’s shaky and exhausted and too sore to feel much of anything.

 

He stares at the mirror that night, once he’s out of the shower, and tells himself he’s not Katsuki Yuuri, but he sees through the lie and chokes on it before the sentence is even fully formed in his head.

 

…

 

He calls Otabek again, his fingers cold in the morning chill as he walks to practice.

 

“I’m sorry.” The word is foreign and heavy and the only person he can remember saying it to since his parents died is his grandfather, but he’s back in Moscow and Yuri is in Saint Petersburg and Almaty is 4,600 kilometers away and Yuri doesn’t miss him as much he needs him here to make sure he doesn’t break himself and end up unable to walk like Katsudon.

 

He says that and more, lets it finally spill out of him. Otabek doesn’t interrupt him, doesn’t speak until Yuri runs out of steam.

 

“I’ll be there,” he says before hanging up. Yuri skates and doesn’t break.

 

…

 

Otabek doesn’t ask why his Grand Prix Finals medal isn’t on the shelf with the rest.

 

If he had, Yuri doesn’t know what he would have said. He can still hear the glass shattering in his head every time he tries to sleep but it doesn’t matter, because they’re sitting on the couch, watching 80s American sitcoms as Puma Tiger Scorpion makes herself comfortable on Otabek’s lap.

 

Jo Polniaczek is getting situated in her dorm when he says, “Sorry for making you drive all the way here.”

 

“It’s okay. I needed a break anyway.”

 

He’s warm, radiating body heat. Yuri feels like he’s touching the sun. He’s going to melt, crash into the ocean and drown.

 

“What’s wrong?” Otabek asks, touching Yuri’s shoulder.

 

Yuri flinches so hard Otabek’s hand slips. “I’m sorry,” he says, mumbling. Puma Tiger Scorpion jumps off the couch and slinks away. He’ll have to feed her soon, maybe give her an extra treat for being so good when Otabek knocked on the door - 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.” He didn’t deserve the medal. Talking to Otabek won’t change how he feels and he needs to accept that. He just needs someone to make sure he won’t snap.

 

He won’t be Katsuki Yuuri.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading!!! comments are appreciated and requests are open but I can't guarantee when I'll get to them  
> tumblr - shuos-jedao (used to be c10p)  
> twitter - cactixix


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